


won't you wake up (i'm dying here)

by TheSongOfTheCricket



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: this turned about pretty dawn-centic, without being planned as such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSongOfTheCricket/pseuds/TheSongOfTheCricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She leaves the room with clenched fists, leaving behind a girl with a gunshot inches from her heart and a fluttering pulse."</p><p>When Tara gets shot in the chest, Willow takes off without thinking to check for a pulse or any sign of breathing., leaving Dawn to come home and find a dying Tara lying on the floor. She calls  9-1-1, and spends the tortuous hours waiting in the hospital while waiting to find out whether or not Tara will survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	won't you wake up (i'm dying here)

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out more Dawn-centric than I had originally intended to.

 

The shot comes out of nowhere.

One second they’re standing there, Tara giving her that same sly grin she always does, and the next second there’s a bullet in her chest and Willow’s struggling to catch her as she crumples forward.

“Tara?” she whispers, nudging the girl’s shoulder. There’s no response, and her voice quickly rises in volume and panic as she repeats the name over and over again.

“Tara,” she cries. “Tara, baby, talk to me! Tara!” Her pleas dissipate into both murmurs and wails of denial as she holds Tara’s body close to her own. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and she’s still muttering under her breath when her body goes rigid, and her eyes flash red.

She leaves the room with clenched fists, leaving behind a girl with a gunshot inches from her heart and a fluttering pulse.

* * *

Things happen quickly: in the span of less than seven minutes, both Buffy and Tara have been shot, Willow’s gotten halfway to the magic box, and Buffy’s been picked up by an ambulance that’s now on its way to the hospital.

It’s maybe two minutes after the ambulance drives away that Dawn gets home, pushing open the unlocked door and calling out. She’s met with silence, which prompts her to begin exploring the house, poking her way around the first floor before making her way up the staircase. She notices that Willow’s bedroom door is open, so she makes her way down the hallway, still calling out as she does so. There’s an apology for intrusion on her lips as she enters the room, but the first thing she notices is the sunlight streaming in through the broken window. The second thing she notices is Tara’s collapsed form at the foot of the bed, a bloom of dark red spread over her chest under her left shoulder.

* * *

“Tara!” she cries, falling to her knees and crawling across the floor to her side. She stares for a moment, eyes wide, before some of her senses seem to kick in, and she leans over Tara’s body. Some of her hair drags through the blood splattered across her sweater, but Dawn really can’t find it within herself to care as she presses her ear to Tara’s chest. She has to slow her own breathing to hear anything, but once she does she can distinctly hear a thumping. It’s faint, but it’s so clearly there that for a moment all Dawn can do is listen, transfixed. The panic of the situation sits in only minutes later, and she crawls back, scrambling to her feet before taking off down the stairs for the nearest phone she can find.

She snatches it up the moment she finds it, and dials nine-one-one as she jogs back up the steps. By the time the operator picks up, she’s already back by Tara’s side, sitting cross-legged by her head.

“Hello, this is nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s-it’s my friend. S-She’s been shot in-in the chest.”

“Alright, we’ll send an ambulance right away. Can you give me your address?”

“It’s, um, 1630 R-Revello Drive.”

“Okay. Is the victim responsive?”

“S-she’s not speaking or moving, b-but she’s breathing.”

“That’s good. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I-I don’t know. I-I came home, and nobody was- no one was home, so I- I went upstairs and I found her lying on the floor.”

“What can you tell me about the victim?” 

“Her name’s- her name is Tara. Her last name’s Maclay, I- I think. Um, she’s at least 21, I saw- I mean, she had her last birthday party at- at a bar, and she drank t-there.”

“Can you tell me what your name is?”

Dawn continues to answer the questions as best she can, and when they eventually hang up, she lets the phone drop to the ground as she cradles Tara’s head in her lap, brushing away the strands of hair plastered to her forehead. She stays like that until she hears the sounds of sirens approaching in the distance.

Tara’d do the same for her.

* * *

They’re loading the stretcher unto the ambulance, Dawn trailing closely behind, when one of the EMTs asks her a question that throws her for a loop.

“What is your relationship with the victim?” they ask.

“She-” Dawn begins, then pauses. How does she answer such a simple question that has such a complex answer? She stands there, frozen on the street for a moment as her brain whirls, searching for an answer.

“She’s like my mother,” she answers finally. The EMT gives her what appears to be a reassuring smile as the extend their arm to help her up onto the ambulance, and when she sits down she reaches out to grab Tara’s hand in her own.

* * *

As she curls up on one of the hospital’s blue-gray armchairs in the waiting room, she thinks about the last time she sat in one of these chairs, when her mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She thinks about all the things that have changed.

She thinks about all the things that haven’t.

* * *

She calls Buffy first.

She knows that Tara’s the one in the hospital right now, and the first person to call should be Willow, but right now, there’s nobody she wants more than her big sister. The doctor who’d come out earlier had informed her that the bullet had missed both Tara’s heart and lungs by just inches, that she was very lucky and her chances of survival were high. Still, she’s scared and alone and she wishes that Buffy was here, that anybody was here.

Buffy doesn’t answer, so she calls Willow, then Xander and the Magic Box, even her friend Janice’s house and her own. None of them answer, so she leaves voicemails, and uses the last of her quarters to buy something from the vending machines.

As she curls back up in the chair, she just wishes she wasn’t alone.

* * *

It’s maybe 7:00 am when someone calls her name. Her head snaps up, thinking it was Buffy, Willow, or even a doctor, but instead she finds Janice’s mother standing there. Nevertheless, she jumps out of her chair and throws her arms around the woman, thankful to finally have some company. There's a small part of her that couldn’t help but wish it were her sister, or Xander, or Willow, or even Spike, but Carol Weathers is a nice woman, and she isn’t going to send away the only familiar face she’s got.

It's the best she's got.

Right now, it's all she's got.

* * *

Mrs. Weathers, as nice as she is, doesn’t provide much in the way of entertainment. Dawn, however, does manage to find something to occupy her time with: telling Mrs. Weathers stories about Tara.

“So, who exactly are you here for?” the woman had asked after the fourth time they’d fallen into silence.

“Tara,” she answers. “She’s my sister’s roommate’s girlfriend.”

“Your sister’s roommate’s girlfriend?” Mrs. Weathers repeats, then takes a moment to stew that over before she responds.

“Are… are you close?” “Yeah,” Dawn replies. “Pretty close actually. Between my mother’s tumor and Buffy’s deat- depression, I mean, she’s been kind of like a second mother to me.”

“Really?”

A smile makes its way across her face as she nods, which is how she finds herself spending the next two hours telling Janice’s mother various stories about Tara.

* * *

“Willow, she’s not dead!” Xander shouts. “Just listen!”

He doesn’t give her a chance to argue before jamming his finger into one of the buttons on the keypad, and the space between them is instantly filled with a metallic version of Dawn’s voice.

_“Xander, it’s Dawn. I-I’m at the hospital with Tara. I-I came home, and- and nobody was there, but I found Tata upstairs. She-she was shot, so I called nine-one-one. They came and took her to the hospital, and they- they say they’re almost certain that she’ll live, but i- I just- there’s nobody here, and I’m all alone, and can you just get my sister? She didn’t answer my call, and I- I’m scared. So can you… can you just get my sister? I guess- I guess that’s it. I’m… I’m gonna hang up now.”_

The voicemail cuts off there, leaving Willow staring at Xander. “She- she’s not dead?” 

“No,” he says.

And then she’s falling against his chest as she dissolves into sobs.

* * *

Dawn’s halfway through a story about the time Tara coerced her into going to the zoo when a doctor steps into the waiting room, causing every single person’s head to snap up.

“Tara Maclay?”

Dawn shoots out of her chair so fast she nearly falls over, and practically runs over to where the doctor is standing.

“Is she okay?” she asks. “Did you get the bullet out? Will she live?”

“Miss Maclay is going to be just fine,” he says. “We were able to remove the bullet with almost no difficulty, and she has regained consciousness.”

“Can I see her?”

“Her condition is stable enough for visitors.”

She starts off down the hallway and gets nearly halfway to the first wing of hospital rooms before she realizes she has no idea where she’s going. She stops and turns around to find the doctor giving her an exasperated look as he strides past her. She does her best to keep herself calm as she following him down the hall, her right hand twitching in nervous excitement.

She doesn’t do very well.

* * *

Tara’s stretched out on the hospital bed, and she looks up when the door opens, her face breaking out into gentle smile upon seeing Dawn.

“Hi Dawnie,” she says, her voice soft and rough from the lack of use. Dawn stops for a minute, staring blankly at the blonde, before rushing over to her bedside and fighting the urge to through herself across Tara and sob into her chest. Instead, she settles for grabbing the nearest chair and pulling it as close as possible, so close that once she sits down, she’s able to lean forward and press her face into her good shoulder.

“You’re okay,” she mumbles, unable to stop the tears that are flowing down her face soaking the flimsy hospital gown. She feels a hand reaching around her head and stroking her hair, which somehow makes her cry harder.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Tara soothes. “Everything’s fine. I’m all right. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Dawn can’t do much else but nod into her shoulder as she tries to hold back the tears streaming down her face, an endeavor which isn’t all that successful.

Tara’s okay. Tara’s okay. Tara’s okay.

* * *

Willow picks up on the second ring.

_“Hello?”_

She sounds frantic, but Dawn figures she’s already heard her voicemail, so panic is warranted.

“It’s Dawn.”

_“Is she okay?”_

“Yeah, she’s okay. They got the bullet out, and she’s awake.”

_“She’s awake? Thank Goddess. Have you seen her?”_

“Uh-huh. She’s in some pain, but she’s smiling.”

_“All right. That- that’s good.”_

They’re silent for a moment, before Dawn finally speaks again.

“Where are you?”

_“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.”_

She hangs up before Dawn can respond.

* * *

She stares up at the speckled ceiling above her, taking comfort in the steady breathing of the girl lying next to her. Tara had been the one who suggested sharing the bed, even going as far as to scoot over as much as possible and pat the spot next to her until Dawn climbed in beside her.

She didn’t want to admit it, but curling up next to Tara was incredibly comforting, the ability to feel her heart beating a nice reassurance that she was still alive. Dawn had never really been a clingy person, nor was she one to make attachments so deep in so little time, but Tara was different. Tara had been there for her the whole time, through the deaths of both her mother and Buffy, even during her break-up with Willow. She’d provided both love and comfort when nobody else had; cared for her while everyone else was too caught up in mourning the deaths she was struggling to get over.

So she curls into Tara, pressing her nose into her shoulder and smiling.

* * *

They’re watching some program on TV, Tara picking at the food one of the nurses had brought her while Dawn inhales the Jello that had accompanied it.

“You know, this stuff is made from crushed up cow’s feet,” she says as she sucks down another spoonful of gelatin.

“Ew, Dawnie,” Tara replies with a grimace, her nose crinkling in disgust, earning her a laugh from Dawn. “I’m eating.”

Dawn only shrugs, shoveling the last of the Jello into her mouth with a goofy smile, her teeth covered in flecks of red.

“You’re disgusting!” Tara cries, placing a hand on Dawn’s face and pushing it away from her. They both began to laugh, which dissolved quickly into Tara wincing in pain as her gunshot wound began to protest. Dawn’s smile faded as concern took over her face, craning her neck around to get a better look at Tara’s left side while she reached out a hand and pulled back the left sleeve to examine the white gauze that covered the injury. It still appeared to be pretty clean, which Dawn took to be a good sign, so she relaxed, lying back against the mattress with a sigh. Tara rolled her eyes with a smile, muttering something under her breath to do with the word ‘mom’.

Dawn puffed out her chest as she straightened her back and shoulders, a small, proud smile making its way onto her face.

* * *

She’s perched on the ledge of the window seat, back pressed against wall and head resting against the glass. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Tara lying on her side, chest rising evenly as she snores softly. Despite the fact that one of the stricter nurses had kicked Dawn out of the bed and onto the window seat instead, the older girl was still scrunched over to the left side, taking up less than half of the space.

She’s almost tempted to crawl back onto the bed and fill the empty space; she knows Tara probably wouldn’t argue and she kind of likes the idea of spiting the old nurse. She almost gets up and does so when she remembers Tara’s earlier comment, and feels that same sense of pride welling up in her chest, so she stays put.

* * *

She wakes up lying on her side, legs curled into her chest and arms around her knees with her back pressed against the window. Her eyes are still closed but her ears are not, and she can hear the sound of both soft sobbing and quiet murmuring coming from across the room. She cracks an eye open to see Willow sitting it the same chair she was earlier, leaning across the bed with her forehead pressed against Tara’s as she cups the girl’s face in her hands. It brings a smile to Dawn’s face, enough to make her want to squeal in happiness and scream ‘I love you’, but instead she just closes her eyes and pretends to still be asleep.

She’s rather not intrude.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with me this long.
> 
> Follow me at Tumblr: the-cricket-song.tumblr.com  
> And watch out for more Tara/Willow works by me.


End file.
